


To an Angel, from a Demon

by aykroyd



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: M/M, Pining, Poetry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-31
Updated: 2019-07-31
Packaged: 2020-07-27 14:49:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 586
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20047819
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aykroyd/pseuds/aykroyd
Summary: A poem written from Crowley's perspective to Aziraphale





	To an Angel, from a Demon

**A Demon**  
It burns, when you lose yourself, when you fall faster than light into a  
Shadow of your former self. It’s ash and fear and pain that turns white wings  
Black. What would you say if I told you I still envied you? Sinning is my  
Strength, after all, and I thought forgiveness was yours. Why don’t we  
fit together like we used to? Where have you gone? Oh. I’m asking questions  
Again.

I miss it— you. Mostly the scent. Sulfur still stings my nose, even after all  
These years. I didn’t mean to fall, of course. My fingernails bled, hot ichor,  
Trying to cling to you. Why didn’t you fight for me, my love? Why do you still  
Fear me, even though we once held each other, cradled in white wings?  
They didn’t have mirrors until I ached to know what truly made us different,  
You and I.

You were molded, but I was chiseled. The Fall sends cracks through your spine  
Making soft angelic faces craggy and aged. I used to be as beautiful as you,  
Don’t you remember? I was your mirror, the curl of your lips rested as a smile  
On mine. Art can be ugly, I’ve seen. Gaudy and material, it can run like oil, pollution,  
And rot in your bloodstream. Do you feel me swimming in yours? Because I can feel you  
In mine.

I made the stars for you— us, but now they seem to mock me, hovering above  
Where I can no longer reach. I wonder if you can feel it, that electricity flowing  
From my fingertips into yours— Or if I’m still imagining all of this, despite the years,  
Despite my best efforts. You talk so much and yet I can swim in your silence. Where  
Do you go, angel? Why can’t I follow? You, in your own way, were always better  
At temptation.

Was it me who invented dreaming? Slumber brings forth an acute clarity. What is supposedly  
Tangible before me, isn’t. In dreams, I touch you. So, it must have been me who thought it up.  
Wouldn’t you, too, sleep for centuries if you were allowed a starved pleasure? If you could  
Close your eyes and feel the relief of thousands of years of longing dissolve. To sleep,  
perchance to dream… Didn’t much care for that one, myself, but you always did like the stuffy  
Ones.

Don’t you understand the nature of magnets? There’s nowhere I could go without  
Being pulled toward you. Two magnets can get so close, and yet never touch. Do  
You think that’s our destiny? An angel, swirled with love and beauty, always so close  
Yet untouched by the black thumb of a demon? It burns, when you lose yourself, but  
I thought I could find myself again behind your eyes. Tell me what you see when you gaze  
Into mine.

Static, unfeeling, nauseous, demons are trained in dismissing human feeling. So, what does  
It mean to be utterly human with you? Humanity is ours alone. I see it in your face. I’ve  
Studied it, dreamed of it, held it like fire in my heart. I am more human now, than demon.  
Do you feel the same? The ichor that ran through us both, melted into this world. They’re ours  
As we are each other’s. I can’t be drowning alone, not while my fingernail’s scars still ache on  
Your wrists.

Take me, angel, just as I am. For everything I am was given in sacrifice at the altar of you.


End file.
